Keep the Beat - Kata Cuic Page 0,8

Tim agrees.

“We’re all fucked,” Jake mutters.

Right they are. Only I can’t let them know that. Yet.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You’re acting like women.” I wink at them to show I’m joking. “All’s fair in love and band. I wish every one of you nothing but success. May the best man win!”

They grumble and pin James down with identical glares. After the events of only the past five minutes, my smile is actually sincere. They’re going to be competing with each other so much that I won’t have to work as hard as I originally thought at all.

Chapter Six

The sounds of music float to my ears from every corner of this section of campus. I might not be playing, and it might be a bit of uncoordinated cacophony, but the various melodies make me smile anyway.

It’s weird not to be a part of music sectionals. At every band camp I’ve ever attended—except my senior year of high school when I was also a drum major—field drills were interspersed with learning to play and memorizing the music that would accompany our fantastic formations.

I’ve become institutionalized to expect it.

So much so that I’m sorting stand songs for each section since I’m not playing right now. Dr. Kimball told the drum majors we could constructively use this time for anything we thought would help the band the most. Another test, presumably. So, I’m helping.

I probably should be helping myself more by keeping an eye on my competition and forming new ways to mess with their minds, but frankly, I need a break from that game. It’s going to be an eternal two weeks as it is.

Unfortunately for me, James has always been a bigger player than I ever wanted to be. He saunters into the file room and takes a seat, staring at me like he’s trying to work out his next play.

Which is fair. I’m doing the same while pretending sorting sheet music is the most concentration-necessary task I’ve ever performed.

“Fuck!” And … another paper cut. My hands are covered in them.

“Wow.” He whistles, which only seems to make my throbbing fingers sting more. “I thought we were friends from now on. Is that any way to greet me when I track you down to offer you my services? You’re in a bad mood, even for you when I’m involved. Does someone need a good dicking? Is the celibacy of camp frying your brain?”

Is he jumping right in with his plan and offering to give me a dicking, or is he still finding it difficult not to be a dick in general? It doesn’t surprise me he mistakes making someone fall in love with him for having sex.

“I had sex with myself this morning, thank you very much, so no. Lack of orgasms isn’t an affliction I suffer from.”

How much sex does this dude have to equate two days of band camp with a dry spell? It’s only Tuesday.

“Masturbation is always a great stress reliever, true, but no. I don’t think it’s working for you. You can’t have sex with yourself. You’re not getting the full benefits, going it alone.”

Okay, so … he’s actually offering. Not surprised. I also don’t want it to go that far between us, no matter how much I want to beat him at his own game.

“Actually, sex with myself is way more relaxing than sex with someone else. I don’t have to perform or worry about anyone’s enjoyment but mine, and I also don’t have the added anxiety of someone thinking he’s fucking a miniature cow.”

He’s silent so long that I’m worried he’s already figured out what’s really going on. Damn.

“Sophie. Has that happened to you?”

“No,” I snap, unable to give him the satisfaction of thinking for a second that I haven’t had great sex since him. “It’s just that I’m realistic enough to be aware that I’m not a supermodel, and the guy obviously knows it, too.”

He shakes his head and clucks his tongue, back to his egomaniacal self as quickly as if someone had waved a magic wand. “See, I was raised to appreciate and say thank you when a friend lets me play with them.”

Sure. Like he thanked me. By ghosting then pretending not to know me when we saw each other again. Maybe he’s just testing out my offer to forget the past. To pretend nothing ever happened between us. Fine. I can run that route.

“I don’t know what your parents taught you, but I’m sure Alex gave you all sorts of lessons